Waiting For A Train
by coffeeofacoffee
Summary: She thinks he should get a hobby, one that isn't her, "one that isn't a pet or a board game".


Title: Waiting For A Train

Author: Coffeeofacoffee

Rating: R (for light sexual reference)

Spoilers: Supernatural S7 finale onwards - but only vaguely.

Summary: She thinks he should get a hobby, one that isn't her, "one that isn't a pet or a board game".

Disclaimer: Not mine, no infringement intended, no profit made, no offence intended.

Author's Notes: Cas and Meg again. They're kind of addictive, no?

**Waiting For A Train**

Tonight Meg tastes of peppermint; it's from some beverage of her choice. It tickles his throat a little when he kisses her but the slight sting on his lips only makes him want to kiss her more.

He's tried insisting that she eat so as to consider her host body and it's need to heal. Meg insists that even if she cared it's unimportant - the host is dead, she's the only thing keeping the body alive. Still he uses this as an excuse to try feeding her things - and, naturally, she resists but only to a point: sometimes, very rarely, she indulges him.

There's a long scar on her neck - it's barely visible to human eyes - Crowley's little gift. He likes to run his tongue along it. She likes to humour him with his interest. He always kisses her there when he attempts to initiate sex. She is strangely acquiescent.

Her thoughts are in phase, and even when he can hear them, he wonders: so is it a game or is she seduced? He likes not to answer his own question.

Sometimes when he's inside her and his control is periphery, he ends up blowing the lights out; and all this crazy energy surrounding them - draws her true nature to the surface: her black eyes stare out at him - dazzling in their black rapture. In this strange but mutual harmony of their bodies, their lines are always blurred. Her mouth will open as if she's leaving her body and yet only produce animal vowels.

This is his favourite thing.

He thinks sometimes he'd like to climb up her like a ladder, slither down her like a snake. Their fortunes are tied together now. Their up and down together now.

For the most part she drinks, her preference: alcoholic; but he's discovered he can get her to eat what he makes, so long as she isn't aware that he's made it. It amuses him that she'll eat if she thinks he hasn't put any care into it, if it looks like something he bought.

But she likes having sex with him - that part she gets. He loves having sex with her. He likes raising her body onto his, he likes watching her when she's not thinking, he likes the squeeze of her legs around him and the sensation of not being able to breath - which doesn't bother him in a human way and is still surprisingly pleasurable.

Sometimes her body is stretched tight with a languid fire and he'll pounce on her like a cat on a toy - like he cannot resist: like the ache within him can be burned away with her. Turned around in her. She chastises him often for taking it too seriously, bites him playfully, and drowns with him a little.

They go a long way, and she defends herself quite admirably but he has a hard time letting her go.

She thinks he should get a hobby, one that isn't her, "one that isn't a pet or a board game". He says he already has one. She says, saving the world and dying, then coming back, isn't a hobby. He reminds her that _she's_ taking it too seriously. She purses her lips.

Every day she gets stronger, and he wonders if she'll leave to pursue her vendetta. He doesn't want her to. He wonders if she recognises that he's trying to distract her so she won't. Not that she uses the kitchen but he's removed all the knives, trying not to touch her trigger finger. He's doubtful that it will work.

By now, he knows, he is familiar to her, a kind of solace to her but he also knows what she is: it wouldn't change if she were human, vegetable, or mineral. She needs to avenge herself: it's everything she is. Their little in-road together is at best a stall.

But for a while he'll make her pizza - because it's the only thing he can get her to eat; make it himself and pretend that he bought it. His heart in a purloined box.


End file.
